For Once
by There'sAlwaysAnException
Summary: Percy Jackson is utterly untouchable. He walks the halls of Goode High and streets of New York like a god. His aura sucks people in and sends them running the other way just as quick. Percy is the modern day equivalent of a saint, and no one dares to touch him in fear of tainting his pure soul. That is until Annabeth Chase transfers, and finds out that they're already too late AU
1. Chapter 1

Percy Jackson is utterly untouchable. He walks the halls of Goode High School like a god. His aura grabs people in, and sends them running the other way just as quick. Percy Jackson is the modern day equivalent of a saint, and no one dares to taint him. That is, until Annabeth Chase transfers to New York. She is the only person who sees the seething blackness in the center of the pure blinding light of his soul. AU.

Percy Jackson was absolutely positive that he was the clumsiest person in all of New York. In a city where masses of people walked in unison with complete practiced ease and self-assured purpose; the weak were trampled. Unfortunately for Percy, he was anything but graceful and driven by purpose. He learned the hard way that aimlessly walking on main streets ended with bruises. And don't even get him started on trying to take a jog. He still had frightening flashbacks of being surrounded by expressionless faces as he was harshly guided and stripped of all control and sense of direction...

The point being, Percy learned his lesson. He had taken to traveling through alleys and back roads that avoided Manhattan's attractions and businesses. He knew the city like the back of his hand.

In those secluded sidewalks was where Percy was now. He climbed out of his self-deprecating thoughts to deal with his current situation.

"Sorry!", he blurted automatically to the latest victim of his clumsiness.

He looked down at the blond girl sprawled out on the concrete with concern. She didn't look injured to him. Her gigantic and thick winter coat had probably absorbed most of the impact. She was laid out flat, arms splayed out from her cartoonish attempt to catch herself. She was resting the back of her head against the ground, with her shining blond hair flared out around her head, like a halo. She stared up at him with perplexed eyebrows, eyes bulging out in indignant disbelief. Her mouth was open in shock, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her breathing was hitched due to the cold and the little clouds from her exhales were appearing and disappearing in rapid succession.

"How did you even _manage _to do that!?", she sputtered out, trying to catch her breath.

She was starting to overcome her shock as she evaluated the most reckless runner she had ever encountered. She had been leisurely walking, admittedly not paying much attention to her surroundings, as she took the new city in. The next thing she knew, the guy who had been running to the direction of her left was suddenly in front of her. Then approximately 6 feet above her as she found herself looking up at him. From the very hard ground.

"S-sorry", he offered again. He is such an idiot.

"It was an accident", he tried to explain. His ears were rushing with blood, embarrassment tinting his sight. He ran his hand through his hair bashfully. Was there anything he couldn't mess up?

This time he remembered the manners his mother taught him. He held out a hand to help her up. She had been scrutinizing him with suspicious eyebrows. That was when he noticed her eyes. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed them before. They were a startling grey, contrasting beautifully with her tan skin and golden curls. The grey shone as fiercely as silver, making a chill travel up his spine. Her flawless skin was flushed, most noticeably in the curves of her cheeks and the tip of her nose. He briefly processed how beautiful her voice was, even when enriched in anger at him. He drowned out the thought that he had just bulldozed an angel. His ADHD brain was taking in every detail of her as he simultaneously wondered where she was from. No one in New York had a tan like that. And he had especially never met someone with eyes like hers. He felt like she was looking through him, reading his mind and digging through his past.

He looked away.

Annabeth was absolutely positive that she had just been run over by the most beautiful person in all of New York. What started out as an assessment of the guy who ran her over, to see if he was a threat, soon became a selfish examination. From what she could see past his jogging gear of a sweatshirt and sweatpants, he was in shape. His broad shoulders tapered down to his trim waist in a triangular shoulder-hip ratio that was entirely unfair. He had perfectly tousled black hair that clearly came naturally, even when sweaty from his run. He had a deliciously sculpted jaw that complemented his angular greek nose. His pouty red lips contrasted beautifully with his slightly olive-toned skin. He was anything but threatening. His whole face was pinched in concern as he looked down at her, assessing her for injuries, lingering a little too long on her face. She felt guilty as her outburst caused him to physically recoil and stutter out another apology. But what really caught her attention, were his eyes. They were the most vibrant blues and greens that she had ever witnessed. Not even the ocean could compete with the lively depths of his irises. She was utterly entranced, as they seemed to swirl, pulling her in. Then he directed his eyes away from her own, and she was once again aware of the cold around her and the ground beneath her. She then noticed his outstretched hand, probably offered to her a long time ago, but she was too enamored with his looks to notice. She blushed and took his hand.

He was startled out of the recesses of his mind as he was reminded that he had been standing there with his hand out the entire time. He felt like a complete dumbass, awkwardly standing over a girl he had just pushed to the ground. What was wrong with him? He heaved her to her feet, not really noticing that her face was even redder than before.

"Thanks", she said, as she was finally off the ground.

She found herself face to chest with her… her what? Attacker? She was suddenly burning with the need to know his name. She looked up into his eyes again.

"What's your-"

"I'm really s-"

They had both started talking at the same time. They simultaneously blushed as they exchanged embarrassed smiles.

"Anyways", she started once it was apparent that he wasn't going to speak first. "I was trying to ask what your name was".

"I'm Percy", Percy replied hesitantly. His eyebrows creased in confusion. Why would she want to know his name after he just assaulted her.

"I'm Annabeth", Annabeth answered, even though he didn't ask. She was used to taking charge.

"Well, Annabeth", he began, testing her name out on his tongue. He wouldn't have expected anything less than a completely unique name for a completely unique person. "For what it's worth, I am really sorry about running into you"

"Yeah, I got that", she replied dryly. "Now _How_ exactly did you run into me" "Percy", she tacked on, following the same thought process as him.

"Well, I-I…", he stuttered _again_. He flushed _again_.

"I kind of just remembered that I forgot my mom's birthday", he finally explained. He mentally added another _again_ to the end of his sentence. Annabeth doesn't want to know about his problems.

"And that caused you to _lunge_ at me?", she asked teasingly. She was enjoying his discomfort way too much. Her tone was devoid of menace and she was smiling at him, but he still flinched back.

"Sorry", he whispered, his head drooping down to stare at his shoes.

"You can stop apologizing", she assured him. She didn't want to see that dejected look on his face ever again.

"Sorry", he said again, reflexively. He was used to blaming himself.

She sighed

"Sorry", he said again, for causing her more distress. He still hadn't looked away from his shoes. He doesn't understand why she hasn't left yet. He's done nothing but spoil her day.

"Percy", she said quietly. He looked back up at her then. "I forgive you"

He was about to apologize to her again, just for good measure, but didn't get the chance. She had covered his mouth with her hand, effectively preventing him from saying that word again. He stared at her with wide eyes, awaiting her next words.

"New Rule", she said to him, looking weightily into his eyes. "No more apologizing to me"

He nodded mutely, her hand moving with him. With her grey eyes piercing through his, he would have agreed to anything she said. She dropped her hand. He immediately misses the warmth of her palm, and she immediately misses the softness of his lips pressed against her hand.

She clears her throat.

"Do you need to get her a present?", Annabeth asks, taking hold of the conversation again.

"What?", he replies dumbly.

"Your mom", she reminds him. She gets the impression that he forgets things often.

"Oh-oh right", he says, remembering why they were both here right now. He then remembers that she asked him a question. "I do. Need to get her a present, I mean"

She nods thoughtfully.

"Do you need help?", she offers.

She doesn't fully understand why she wants to help him so bad. He was like a magnet, pulling her in, with his eyes, and everything else about him. It may be because she finds him attractive, but she knows it's mostly because she genuinely wants to get to know him better. What causes someone to feel the need to apologize so much? He seemed to feel repentant for simply existing, and it made her heart contract painfully to think that someone would feel that way.

"Do you mean-like...you… _you_ would help _me_", he says in disbelief. "After I just charged you to the ground?"

He couldn't seem to be able to get over hurting her. He refused to grasp the idea of someone wanting to help him. Spend time with him even.

"It's not like you actually _hurt_ me", she tries to reassure him.

He doesn't look convinced. He's looking away from her again. She stops a sigh from escaping her mouth, and tries a different approach.

"Besides, while we're shopping, you can buy me some coffee; if it'll make you feel any better"

He perks up at that.

"I think that can be arranged", he agrees. He congratulates himself on not stumbling over his words this time.

"The mall?", she suggests. He readily accepts her choice. As she turns around and heads toward the main streets, he follows her. It's a bit concerning how easily he relinquishes control. She then realizes a very crucial detail.

"Percy", she says, grabbing the attention of the boy following her.

"Hmm?", he asks, looking towards her.

"Where's the mall?", she asks innocently. He stares blankly at her for a second.

"You don't know where the mall is?", his voice heightened in mock horror.

"I'm from San Francisco. I just moved here last week", she reveals.

Percy's suspicions are verified. That's one mystery solved. Now if she could just answer the mystery of why she's wasting her time with him.

"Umm, well… welcome to New York", he says in a small voice, spreading out his arms unimpressively.

And she bursts out laughing because their situation was not anything she could have imagined when she thought about New York. The cute boy, sure. The cute boy literally running into her, and landing her on her ass; not so much. Going with said cute boy to buy his mom a birthday present, as he welcomes her to his city like he just did; the most surreal joke ever. And soon he's laughing with her because he finds her laughter infectious. And soon she's laughing hysterically because his laugh is the most beautiful sound she has ever heard, and she can't deal with that right now.


	2. Chapter 2

Annabeth was absolutely positive that Percy was the biggest momma's boy in all of New York. Although far from Oedipal, it was still slightly concerning. The entire walk to the mall was filled up with Annabeth asking questions about Sally, and Percy going above and beyond in answering each one as if he was making a sales pitch.

"_How old is she?"_

"_Well she's 38, but she really doesn't look it! You would probably think she was 30. Or 28! And she's very active for her age, she works 9 to 5, six days a week at the candy shop. Maybe even mid-twenties!"_

It was admittedly adorable how he praised his mom. His eyes lit up as he talked and he smiled unabashedly and so carefree. He kind of reminded her of her little brothers in that aspect. And before she could stop it, the flood of thoughts and emotions that she had repressed were rushing to the forefront of her mind like tainted water from a bursted dam. She had wanted to avoid thinking about her past life in San Francisco for as long as possible. Now was not the time. She needed to be alone for this, safe in her bed, under her blanket. But she couldn't stop it. The cool burning of guilt threatened to swallow her stomach as the memory of her father's face when she told him she wanted to move in with her mother, appeared in her mind; Summoned by that little part of her that liked to watch herself suffer. She saw his face crumble with self-recrimination. She almost wanted to yell at him, then. Tell him the truth about his wife. To tell him that it wasn't his fault.

Almost.

Because it was his fault. Because he married her. Because he chose now to take a look at himself. He chose the time when he was already too late, to decide that he wanted to change. She hated him a little him for making her feel guilty. And she hated herself for hating him then, because kids shouldn't hate their parents. But everything was so jumbled in her mind. Her feelings for him perpetually flipping, ripping and fixing. There was no black and white, no love or hate. It was a mixture, a flammable concoction that just needed a little spark to catch. Or a little solvent to dilute it into something she could swallow.

She remembered the faux sad face of her stepmother. She gasped and frowned pitifully at all the right times. It was enough to convince her dad as he took her hand in a display of mutual comfort. But all Annabeth saw was her mentally mapping out her plans to renovate her bedroom.

She saw the confused faces of her naive little brothers as they stared up at her.

_Why are you leaving? / We're sorry!_

_Don't go! / We don't want you to go!_

_We'll leave you alone or… / or we could… we can…_

They pleaded with her in that completely unguarded childish tone. Their blatant emotions laid out like that almost made her change her mind.

Almost.

They would understand eventually. Soon they will find out that your emotions and your mouth need to be disconnected. They'll learn how to build up their filters. Filters so strong that they themselves won't even be able to decipher the truth. But they'll probably never fully understand why she needed to leave. She told everyone it was because of the amazing career opportunities available in New York for an architect, and that was a big part of it. But it was also the burning need to get out of that house. It was a horribly torturing feeling to know that you were unwanted. To feel the tension in every interaction with her stepmother. An unspoken contempt that bled into your psyche whenever you were alone and tired of the rebellious teenager persona. Of pretending that it was her own fault, and as a teenager to her stepmother's adult, that she was in the wrong. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She shouldn't feel a forcefield around her own house. Around her own father.

She struggled to take the reins of her thoughts. As she looked over at Percy though, it became suddenly very easy.

In that moment in time, his body language screamed pure happiness and excitement. His head was held high and his shoulders straight. He looked her in the eyes and undauntedly expressed his thoughts and feelings with his body. He looked emotionally light and his skin appeared to be glowing. At times she swore she could almost see a shimmering brightness emitting from his person. She was sure that was just her imagination, though. She had also never considered herself an empath before, but she found herself feeling positively buoyant just being near him, then. She felt content and safe with this wonderful stranger. The snow was falling lightly and beautifully like in the movies, and the lights of New York sparkled through the laughter induced tears in her eyes. Everything was perfect.

And then she fucked it up.

Percy had just finished telling a story about a vacation to a beach house in Montauk when she made the mistake of asking the horrid question. Laughter had just subsided and their faces were hurting from all the smiling. She just had to ruin it by asking...

"So, what about your dad?", having no idea what kind of emotional storm she would generate inside Percy with those simple words.

His smile instantly dropped. His eyes dropped. His shoulders drooped. His entire body seemed to deflate and the easy confident grace he previously possessed, disappeared. He reverted back to the nervous mess he had been when she first met him. He seemed to not be able to control his hands as they played with the edges of his sweater and then dove into his pockets. He repeated these actions while he looked anywhere but at her. She was about to take it back, tell him it didn't matter.

But that wasn't what he needed.

Those words snapped him out of it. What was he doing? He knew how it would all turn out. How could he think that he could talk to her like that, sharing every single thought that flew through his stupid brain? He was just so caught up in it. Being able to talk to another human being, past pleasantries. He bared himself. How could he let that happen? He knows what comes next. Had known it for as long as he could remember. Why would he think for one second that this would be any different. That she would be different. He had to stop right now before the inevitable. Before he got attached.

"You're drooling", she told him.

And it was too late.


	3. Chapter 3

Percy Jackson was absolutely positive that he was the worst son in all of New York. It's not that he didn't know what to get his mom, that part was easy. It was just that nothing seemed good enough for her. He thought she deserved the world, and he wished more than anything that he was able give it to her. She had always been happy with his previous gifts, he knew. But that was more a testament to the kind of person she was than his gift giving skills.

He sighs loudly, and instantly berates himself for it. This was for his mom. She was never a chore.

As he looked through what must have been the fiftieth store they've been to, he can instinctively feel Annabeth's frustration, like a familiar tickling in his gut.

He's used to those kinds of emotions directed at him. At least, that's what he interprets them as.

He fights the familiar response to flee. Fight or flight didn't seem like an appropriate state of mind when out shopping with a pretty girl. But talking to her seemed like a type of fight. One that was all mental, which he didn't consider his strong suit.

"You really don't have to do this", he says, approaching her like a wild animal.

He knows that she only offered assistance out of politeness, and that he never should have accepted it.

He fails to recall the fact that she had actually had to convince him to let her help.

He has a pretty bad habit of forgetting things like that.

He hopes that she'll listen this time.

She doesn't.

"I've figured that out for myself, believe it or not." she replies from behind a rack of coats.

She finds it very easy to be sassy when she doesn't have to look into those eyes of his.

Control during dark times like these is what keeps her going.

Mmmm... sweet self-reflection to match.

This is a good day.

He had been saying things along those lines for like an hour now. Every single time they entered a different store, he took it upon himself to offer her an out. She was careful to hide any kind of frustration she may be feeling. But the only cause of her frustration was his conviction that she should feel frustrated. She was honestly enjoying feeling like a normal teenager for once. She honestly can't recall a time where she simply went to the mall without a set time restraint and agenda. Or had genuinely pleasant human interaction, really. Maybe she was hiding under the guise of study and architecture to avoid rejection. Maybe living with her step-mother for as long as she had, had affected her more than she thought. Today is just the day for psycho-analyzation, it seems.

She also found great enjoyment in watching him fret and tut over the merchandise. Occasionally offering up little gems like 'A _pantsuit _Percy? Do you _honestly_ think your mom wants a _pantsuit_?' She was certain that he didn't even know he had spoken out loud, so she treasured them all the more.

And maybe she was living vicariously through him, soaking in secondhand affection.

Maybe imagining a life where she could feel that close to her own mom.

And maybe she just liked looking at him.

Maybe.

"I mean... ", he struggles to find the right words.

"I don't think you want to be here", he decides is a good start.

"And I don't want you to feel obligated to stay", he says in a rushed breath.

She takes a long look at him.

Her eyebrows are scrunched together tightly, almost touching.

He fails to read her expression as concern.

He has a pretty bad habit of missing things like that.

She is quickly running out of approaches to assuage his never ending guilt.

"Do I honestly strike you as someone who does things she doesn't want to do, out of _obligation_?", she finally says.

She feels very proud of herself.

It's a trick question.

She's tricked him.

Ha.

"N-NO, I mean… no?", he offers cautiously. He honestly thought he was over the stuttering.

She pities him for a second.

She refrains from patting him on the head and saying something extremely patronizing.

A "Good boy", escapes the damaged wasteland of her mind through her mouth before she's even fully processed it.

Oop…

He looks adorably confuzzled by her praise; praise more befitting of a dog.

He honestly doesn't know if he should be offended or not.

He also doesn't know that she thinks his expression very much resembles a dog.

He really should be offended.

And as he decides that the comment was harmless and sends a warm smile her way, it's suddenly not very funny at all. In what universe would _'Good boy' _even be remotely accepted as earnest praise. Why would he take that from her? How does that not register as emotionally abusive to him? And suddenly that feeling in her gut is back. She feels the need to protect him, like he was a helpless little puppy that followed strangers around in a search of a home. A puppy that's been abandoned and has long since learned that chasing after affection only gets him kicked.

She really needs to stop comparing him to a dog.

She really likes dogs.

It's only six stores later when he finally finds something slightly acceptable.

It's an intricate cookbook that encourages innovations to it's recipes.

It's neat, helpful, and slightly self deprecating.

For some reason, it appeals to him.

He writes it off as the blue cover.

He's always liked blue.

Yeah, that's it.

…

A/N: There's honestly no consistency in any field of my writing. I'm experimenting with the style. And updates are made on a whim. Sorry 'bout that. The grammar is pretty stellar, though. You're welcome for that, at least.


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